


Radar's 18th Birthday

by Charowak



Series: Starbucks Store #4077 [2]
Category: MASH (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Multi, Strippers & Strip Clubs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-04
Updated: 2020-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:27:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23016268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Charowak/pseuds/Charowak
Summary: The Store #4077 gang takes Radar to a strip club for his birthday.
Relationships: B. J. Hunnicutt/Benjamin Franklin "Hawkeye" Pierce
Series: Starbucks Store #4077 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1653247
Comments: 1
Kudos: 36





	Radar's 18th Birthday

There was a lull in the morning rush; Hawkeye knew it would be over shortly, but in the meantime he amused himself by building a boomerang out of cup sleeves and stickers. When he finished assembling it, he chuckled to himself and peeked over to the pastry case, where Trapper stood, counting the food on the carts. With a deft aim, he spun the boomerang in Trapper’s direction. It hit him squarely in the bicep, causing him to jump.

Hawkeye burst out laughing. “Got ‘em!”

Once Trapper figured out what had happened, he began laughing as well. “Nice one,” he called across the floor.

Hawkeye ambled over to the pastry case to retrieve his projectile. “Hey, Trap, you know what this weekend is, right?” 

“Yeah,” Trapper said. “Me getting wasted.”

“Well, that, and it’s Radar’s birthday. He’s gonna be eighteen.”

Trapper looked at Hawkeye, eyes widening. “No kidding.”

“Would I ever kid you about something as monumental as our little store baby becoming our little store adult?”

“We gotta do something special for him,” Trapper said, sifting through cheese danishes.

“Obviously. You got any ideas?”

“Well, I could give him my bean markout.”

“He gets a bean markout too, Trap.”

“Yeah, but if everyone in the store uses their markouts, we get a nice basket and put a bow on it…”

“Nah, we gotta do something better than that. Store party.”

“Great idea, we can invite him over your place.”

Hawkeye narrowed his eyes. “No, we can’t.”

“Why not? He’s an adult. I think he’s ready to experience Casa Hawkeye.”

“He may be an adult, but he’s still seven years younger than us, and considering our reputations as homosexuals, I don’t think it’s such a good idea.”

“Right. We could bring him to a bar?”

“He’s not twenty-one yet. What’s he going to do at a bar when we’re all drinking?”

“Watch us drink?”

“On his  _ birthday? _ Try again.”

They pondered their ideas in silence for a brief moment, then simultaneously thought of the perfect one. Trapper’s head shot up, and Hawkeye clasped his hands together, saying, “Dude!  _ We take him to the strip club! _ ”

“That’s  _ perfect! _ The best part of turning eighteen is that he can now legally expose himself to sex!”

“Okay. Okay. Let’s start planning this. He’s in today at 3:30, so we’ll tell him we have a little surprise for him on Saturday night.”

“He closes on Saturday.”

“So we’ll come and get him after close. In the meantime, we should ask everyone in the store if they want to come.”

“Okay, I’ve just got one question.” Trapper wagged a lemon loaf at Hawkeye. “I can get drunk at this strip club, right?”

“Well, it’s different from going to a bar because Radar has something to do at a strip club that isn’t drinking, so yeah, go crazy go stupid.”

“Amazing. I’ll get right down to asking B.J. when he comes in at one.”

“No, no, I want to ask B.J.”

Trapper grinned knowingly. “Of course you want to ask B.J.”

“You ask Charles and Margaret, and I’ll ask Sherm and Max, and you can ask Kea.”

“Wait, is Miss Kellye of the titty-liking persuasion?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Everyone likes titties, whether you’re attracted to women or not.”

“You’re right. Okay, this sounds like a solid plan.”

“Great. We’ll report to each other with who says yes, and on Saturday, I’ll pick everyone up.”

“Perfect.”

****

The two shifts asked all of their friends in the store. These were the responses:

B.J.: “I’d love to go stare at some tits with you, Hawk.  _ Wink. _ ”

Margaret: “Absolutely not! The boy has just turned eighteen and you’re already trying to pervert him? I refuse to take part in it.” 

“You’d better button your blouse, Margaret, your Frank is showing,” Trapper had responded.

Charles: “Well, I do appreciate any opportunity to gaze upon the female anatomy. Yes, I will join you.”

Sherm: “I appreciate you planning something for Radar’s birthday, but I don’t think my  _ wife  _ would like very much if I went, Pierce.” 

“Well, bring your wife, then,” Hawkeye offered. “Fun for the whole family.”

Sherm waved him off. “You kids have fun.”

Max: “Are you kidding me? I’m already there in my heart!”

Kea: “For Radar’s birthday? Sounds like fun! Count me in.”

****

On Saturday at 8:30, half an hour after close, Hawkeye pulled into the Starbucks parking lot, with B.J., Trapper, Charles, Max, and Kea piled in his PT Cruiser. He swiveled around into the drive thru, pulled up to the window, and laid on the horn.

Margaret immediately came running to the window to see what the problem was, afraid it was a customer. When she saw Hawkeye smiling and waving at her from the drivers’ seat, she rolled her eyes with a massive dramatic flair and came to open the window. “What do you want?!”

“Hi, honey. We’re here to pick up Radar.”

“Pick up Radar for  _ what? _ ”

“His birthday party, of course. You know, the one at the strip club.”

“Ugh! We’ll be done in five minutes. Go park somewhere. I don’t want people to see me talking to you and think we’re open.”

“You got it.” Hawkeye removed his car from the drive thru and parked it out front.

“Hey, Hawk, pass me the aux,” B.J. said from the passenger seat.

“Sure thing.” Hawkeye fiddled in the tangle of wires coming from his stereo and passed B.J. the aux.

Charles, who was sitting bitch, groaned. “What absolute garbage are you going to play, Hunnicutt?”

As B.J. plugged his phone into the aux, he said, “Charles, I have used my company-provided Spotify Premium to curate the perfect playlist for pissing you off.” The first notes of “Funkytown” hit the speakers.

“Hey!” Trapper shouted in protest. “B.J., if you don’t skip that right now--”

“Not a chance,” B.J. yelled, turning up the volume.

As promised, in five minutes, Margaret, Radar, and the Deacon emerged from the store; Hawkeye tooted the horn at them. Margaret flipped him off as she locked the doors.

The Deacon, whose real name was Francis Mulcahy, approached the car and tapped on the window. He’d gained his nickname because he was a practicing Catholic who was working at Starbucks to save up for seminary.

Hawkeye rolled the window down. “Good evening, Your Holiness.”

The Deacon chuckled. “Oh, I’m not there yet. Pleasure to see all of you here. What’s the occasion?”

“We’re here to pick up Radar for his surprise party.”

“Surprise party?” the Deacon said. “I wasn’t aware of this. I’d love to come.”

Hawkeye beckoned the Deacon’s head into the car. “I really don’t think you would, Deeks,” he whispered. “We’re taking him to the strip club.”

A look of dismay crossed the Deacon’s face. “Oh. Well, I shall be with you in spirit.”

“Much appreciated.” Hawkeye craned his neck out of the car window. “Taxi for Walter O’Reilly?”

Radar smiled widely. “Hi, guys. Where are we going?”

“You’ll find out when we get there,” Hawkeye said. “Now, you have your choice of lap in the back. You may sit on Charles’ lap or Max’s lap. I’m afraid Kea’s lap is occupied.”

B.J. leaned into the back. “No fair, it’s the dude’s birthday. Trapper, move over.”

“Aw, man,” Trapper muttered. “Hello, Charles,” he said, scooting over onto Charles’ lap. Charles groaned.

Radar opened the door to the car and squeezed in. “Hi, Kea,” he said.

“Hi, Radar. Happy birthday.”

“Th-thank you.”

“Alright, let’s get the fuck out of here!” Hawkeye threw the car into reverse and zipped out of the parking lot.

Once they reached the highway, Max produced something from his coat pocket. “Anyone want a hit?”

B.J. turned around slowly to look at him. “A hit of  _ what, _ Max?”

“Legal marijuana. For the party’s enjoyment I have brought three genuine J’s.”

“How did you buy legal weed if you’re on probation for drugs, Max?” Trapper said.

“A friend got it for me. Do you want a hit or not?”

“Yes,” Trapper said, reaching for the joint.

“No!” Charles shouted from under Trapper. “The smell of marijuana makes me ill.”

“So I’ll crack a window,” Hawkeye said. “Let the boys have fun, Charles. We’ll be there in fifteen. Oh, and save some for me when we get there, I don’t want to drive high.”

“As the organizer of this party, you absolutely got it, boss,” Max said, lighting the joint. He took a puff and passed it to Trapper, who passed it to B.J., who then passed it back to Kea.

They passed it amongst themselves for a few minutes, then Hawkeye said, “Hey, any of you fellas thought to ask Radar if he wants any?”

“No,” Max said. “Hey, Radar, you want any?”

“Uh…” Radar assumed a demeanor of discomfort. “What if I get drug tested and lose my job?”

“Starbucks doesn’t drug test,” B.J. reassured him. “If they did, no one would work here.”

“Yeah,” Radar said. “Well, I guess it is my birthday.”

The four people who were already high erupted in cheers. “Baby’s first J!” Max shouted, passing Radar the joint.

“Uh, how do I do this?” Radar asked.

“Put it right up to your lips and inhale,” Kea said. 

“Yeah, don’t stick it in your mouth, that’s gross,” Trapper added.

“Okay.” Radar held the joint to his lips and breathed in a whole bunch of the stuff, then immediately started coughing. 

Everyone except Charles resumed cheering; Trapper plucked the joint from Radar’s fingers before he could drop it in his coughing fit.

“Good thing I came prepared!” Max tossed Radar a cough drop, which he hungrily unwrapped and shoved into his mouth.

“Hey, everybody, shut the fuck up,” Trapper said. “Radar. Are you high yet?”

“Uh…” Radar paused. “Uh… I think so.”

The whoops from the car’s occupants resumed in full force; Charles produced his loudest groan.

Hawkeye pulled into the strip club’s parking lot and found a spot. “We’re here. Pass me the shit.”

“Certainly!” Max passed him the joint; he took a couple of puffs, blowing smoke rings into B.J.'s face. B.J. shook himself like a cat; Hawkeye giggled.

“Alright, let’s go in,” Hawkeye said when he was done, and the squad de-piled themselves to exit the car.

“Where are we?” Radar asked.

“Just a little place I like to call heaven,” Hawkeye said, pushing the door open. “Hello,” he said to the bouncer. “Party of seven. You got any tables that big?”

“Funny,” the bouncer said. “Let’s see some ID, and the cover is ten bucks.”

“You got it.” Everyone brought out their wallets to provide ID and the cover. Hawkeye grabbed Radar’s shoulder and pulled him towards the bouncer. “I’m paying for this kid,” he said, handing her a twenty. “It’s his birthday. Radar, show her your ID.”

Radar smiled and grabbed his license from his wallet, showing it to the bouncer.

“This is an under 18 ID,” she said.

“Yeah, under 18 until today,” Hawkeye said, pointing to the date stamp on the card.

“Well, I’d hate to turn you away on your birthday, so you can come in, but you gotta get yourself an over 18 license for next time,” she said, handing Radar back his ID.

“These strip clubs are mad picky, kiddo,” Hawkeye said as he ushered Radar into the club. “I tried to show them my passport once and they told me to leave.”

Radar stopped in his tracks. “Wait! This is a strip club? You mean there’s naked ladies in there that don’t have any clothes on?”

“Well, yeah, I thought the giant neon sign above the door that said ‘GIRLS GIRLS GIRLS GIRLS’ would give it away.”

Radar started backing towards the door. “Oh, I don’t know about this, Hawk.”

“It’s okay, Radar. These lovely ladies are here to dance for  _ you, _ as long as you give them money.” Hawkeye grabbed a band of singles from his pocket and presented it to Radar. “Congratulations on acquiring adulthood. Come on, everyone, let’s go in!”

“Hell yeah!” Trapper said. “I’ve been looking forward to this all week.”

“So has everybody, McIntyre,” Charles said.

They entered the club, Radar still bearing his nerves on his sleeve. They were greeted to the song “Girls, Girls, Girls” blasting at full volume.

“Does  _ every  _ strip club play this song?” Charles muttered.

“Yeah, Chuck, they have to play it every half hour at every strip club,” Trapper explained. “It’s a legal requirement.”

Radar was already transfixed by the dancer currently on stage. He nudged Hawkeye with his elbow. “She’s-- she’s got-- really big--”

“You can look all you want, Radar, but make sure you toss some of that money at her.” Hawkeye pulled a few singles from his own pocket. “Like this.” He walked closer to the stage and flicked one gently at the dancer; she smiled, winked, and shook her ass in his face. When she resumed her dance, Hawkeye walked back over to Radar. “Your turn. Remember, the more money you give her, the closer she’ll get to you.”

Radar cautiously approached the stage and placed three singles gently on the platform; the dancer giggled, crawled over to him, and wiggled her tits at him. “Whoa!” Radar exclaimed.

“Who besides Radar wants drinks?” Trapper called from where he stood by the bar. Hawkeye jaunted over to him and grinned; B.J. was already there.

“I want whatever you’ve got that has the most alcohol in it,” Hawkeye said to the bartender. “Actually, make it three.” He gestured to Trapper and B.J.

As the bartender made the drinks, Hawkeye looked back over at Radar, who sat in the stools around the stage watching the dancer. “Hey guys,” he said to Trapper and B.J. “How about the three of us split Radar’s very first lap dance?”

“Yes!” Trapper said.

“Great idea,” B.J. agreed.

“Great. Fifteen bucks from each of you, please.” Hawkeye collected from Trapper, and then leaned in close to B.J.’s face. “And then, how about we get ourselves a lap dance? Together?”

B.J. smiled. “I like that idea too.”

Hawkeye surveyed the strippers who were sitting in the lounge, sipping his drink. After selecting the one he deemed to have the biggest tits and the prettiest face, he approached her. “Good evening, miss,” he said.

The dancer gave him a catlike smile. “Hello.”

Hawkeye pointed to Radar, who sat at the stage ogling the girl on stage. “You see that nice young man over there?”

The dancer nodded.

“Today is his birthday. His 18th birthday, and we’d like you to have the honor of giving him his very first lap dance.” Hawkeye presented the cash to her.

“Sure.” She accepted the money and stood up.

“Thank you. Tell him it’s from the guys.”

She nodded and winked at him as she made her way over to Radar and tapped him on the shoulder. He looked up at her with wide eyes as she told him her purpose, then glanced over and locked eyes with Hawkeye, who raised his glass to him.

Hawkeye glanced around the club; he saw Charles sitting by himself, admiring the ladies from afar, Max and Kea sharing a table close to the stage and tossing bills upon it, and Trapper schmoozing one of the other strippers by the restroom. He made his way back over to the bar, where B.J. was still working on his drink, and tapped him on the shoulder. “Chug it. It’s our turn.”

****

Several hours, drinks, and private dances later, the seven of them sat together around a table. Charles was stirring his drink with a straw, Max had all but passed out in his chair, Kea and Radar sat on a small couch with their legs touching, B.J. was slumped over into Hawkeye’s lap, and Trapper sat on the couch with them, manspreading so much so that B.J.’s head rested on his left leg.

“So Hawkeye,” Trapper said. “Any chance of you sucking my dick tonight?”

“Nope,” B.J. said.

Hawkeye shrugged. “I’ll get you next time.”

“Nope,” B.J. said.

“Well, okay.” Hawkeye smiled and patted B.J.’s head. “How was your birthday, Radar?”

Radar chuckled. “It was very good. Thank you, sirs, for bringing me.”

“No, thank  _ you  _ for being born,” Trapper said.

The same bouncer who had let them in made her way over to them. “Hello, folks. We’re getting ready to close, so you should be getting ready to leave.”

“You got it,” Hawkeye said, downing the last of his drink. “Wait.  _ Shit. _ ”

“What seems to be the problem, Pierce?” Charles asked.

“We are all massively fucked up. Who’s driving?”

A silence fell over the group; Max awoke from his slumber as everyone looked each other over.

“I’m calling Margaret.” Hawkeye gently moved B.J.’s head to get his phone from his pocket; B.J. made a mumbling noise and slumped back over.

Max started. “Don’t call Margaret! It’s three in the morning! She’s gonna lose her shit. Call Sherm.”

“Sherm will also lose his shit, Max,” Hawkeye said as he dialed the number. “The difference is if Sherm loses his shit, we might all not have  _ jobs  _ when the sun comes up. I’m calling Margaret.”

Margaret picked up just after the fourth ring. “What in the name of Howard Schultz do you want? I’m opening!”

“Hello, Margaret. You just closed.”

“I’m  _ clopening!  _ You better not be calling out!”

“I’m not. I’m calling to designate you as our designated driver.”

“Oh, you’ve GOT to be fucking kidding me! I have to come up there and drive you all home in that clown car of yours?”

“That’s the idea.”

“Fine! But only because if one of you drove drunk and killed the whole bunch of you, we’d have to hire four new shifts.”

“Thank you, love! I’ll call you an Uber to us presently.”

“Hmph!” She hung up.

“Okay, we’ve got ourselves a driver. I’ll bring her here now. See? She really does love us.” Hawkeye switched to the Uber app and scheduled a ride from Margaret’s house to the strip club. The gang stood up to leave.

“Hey, wait,” Kea said. “What are we going to do about Radar’s car? It’s parked in the Starbucks parking lot.”

“Bring him back to Casa Hawkeye,” Trapper said. “You can drop him off at his car in the morning. He has the day off.”

“Casa Hawkeye is going to be occupied tonight by two adults doing adult things,” Hawkeye said, gesturing to B.J.

“You know it,” B.J. slurred.

“And by that I mean cuddling. This man is gone as fuck.”

“Sure,” B.J. mumbled.

Trapper sighed. “All right, I’ll put him up at my place.”

“Yo, while we’re waiting for Margaret, I’ve still got one J left!” Max offered.

“Hell yeah,” Hawkeye said as they made their way to the car.

When Margaret arrived in her Uber, the parking lot was empty except for Hawkeye’s car. She got out of her ride and headed over to the car. As she got closer, she realized she couldn’t see any of them in there; they were obscured by a massive cloud of smoke. “Disgusting!” She stomped her foot and started walking more briskly; when the distance was closed she wrenched open the drivers’ side door to find B.J. and Hawkeye cuddling in the drivers’ seat, Radar in the passenger seat with a lit joint in his hand, and the other four passengers in a human pile in the back.

“Oh, hi, Hot Lips. Glad you could make it.” Hawkeye grinned.

“Move, you two!” She started pushing at Hawkeye and B.J.; the two of them scrambled into the passenger seat, landing on top of Radar.

“Ow!” Radar hollered. He dropped the joint he had been holding, which began to smolder and burn Hawkeye’s pants. Hawkeye screamed and smacked at it until it went out; Radar hurriedly climbed out from under them and fell over into the back seat.

As Hawkeye and B.J. settled into their new seat, the latter plucked the joint off of the floor. “Is this still good? Max, toss me the lighter.”

“Absolutely not!” Margaret hollered; she had already started the car and switched it into drive. “I’m already a little high just from how much you fuckers hotboxed this heap of metal!”

“Oops,” Hawkeye said.

“All right, where are we going?”

“Uh, first Trapper’s, then Kea’s, then Charles--”

“Under no circumstances!” Margaret slammed her hands on the wheel. “I am not a school bus! I have to open the store in an hour and a half, so you may pick one place where you all can spend the night, and I will see  _ you  _ bright and early, 6:30 A.M.,  _ Benjamin Franklin! _ ”

“Okay, fine, bring us all back to my place,” Hawkeye mumbled. “By the way, I’m calling out.”

“You are most definitely not! Bright and early, 6:30 A.M.!”

“You bet.”

The car ride was silent; any attempts to speak were immediately thwarted by Margaret shouting, “Shut the hell up!” Then again, most of them had passed out by the time they arrived at Hawkeye’s house. The seven intoxicated baristas slowly climbed out of the car; Margaret got out first and opened her phone to call herself an Uber.

“I will see all of you at work,” she said.

“Thank you, Margaret,” Hawkeye said sweetly.

Margaret smiled; her smile was tense but Hawkeye knew it was genuine. “My pleasure.”

“Yeah, fuck it, I’m gonna call a cab home too,” Trapper said. “Radar, you’ll be coming with me.”

“Yes sir,” Radar said, then proceeded to lose control of his legs and fall onto the driveway. Trapper picked him up and held him upright.

“Yeah, how about we all just go home from here?” Max suggested. Charles and Kea nodded in agreement.

Hawkeye and B.J. went to sit on the steps of Hawkeye’s house as the group dispersed, waving to each of them as they got into their respective cabs. B.J., still completely wasted, leaned the entire weight of his body into Hawkeye’s shoulder.

“Hey, Beej, I have a wild question for you,” Hawkeye said after their friends had all gone home.

“Mhm?”

“How come we’ve never kissed?”

“What do you mean? Of course we have.”

“No, we have not.”

“That time when you, me, and Trapper went to that gay bar.”

Hawkeye laughed. “No, Beej. You kissed  _ Trapper. _ ”

B.J. sat upright almost immediately. “I did?”

“You sure as fuck did.”

“Ew!”

Hawkeye kept laughing and put his arm around B.J. “You need some time to process that information?”

B.J. shook his head. “Nah.” He reached his hand up to Hawkeye’s face, slipped his fingers under his chin, and pressed their lips together briefly. “Well, there you go.”

“You call that a kiss?”

“Sorry, I’m about to pass out. I’ll give you a better one next time.”

“Beej, you are so fucking cute, you know that?”

“No, you.”

“No,  _ you. _ ”

“No, YOU.”

“All right, drunky.” Hawkeye helped B.J. up and unlocked his front door. “Let’s go inside.”

END

**Author's Note:**

> i'm glad to see some of you like this series so far!! i'll be adding more to it for sure, i'm having a lot of fun with it :)


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